


Your Absence Has Gone Through Me

by FanchonMoreau



Category: Prime Suspect (UK), River (TV 2015), The Fall (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, ask box fic, assorted tumblr fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5867926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanchonMoreau/pseuds/FanchonMoreau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Like thread through a needle/Everything I do is stitched with its color.' Assorted fics from a tumblr prompt meme. Fandoms: The Fall, Prime Suspect, River.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stella/Reed: When it rains/snows

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to get these in one place! Summary is from W.S. Merwin's slam-in-the-gut poem 'Separation.' The title and the summary combined constitute the whole poem, and it's mostly because the evil people who follow me kept using this one prompt about absence.

It’s been raining all day, but the downpour doesn’t start until Reed gets in her taxi.

She’s left the girls with her mum; they’re shopping in Oxford Circus. Reed is off to get drinks with Stella in Islington, or so she’s told her mother. She’s really taking the cab directly to Stella’s flat where, well, perhaps they’ll have something to drink.

Or perhaps not. 

A text comes in from Stella: _where are you?_

_In a cab,_ Reed texts back. _10 min away, maybe 15. May take longer in the rain._

At that moment, Reed’s phone rings. Reed doesn’t have to check the ID to know who it is. 

“Yes, it is some weather we’re having,” Stella says in lieu of a greeting.

“Rain in London. How entirely unexpected,” Reed deadpans. The long afternoon with her mother has left her patience frayed, and she can hardly summon up the energy to look forward to the evening’s encounter with Stella. 

It’s unusual, the ennui. She and Stella have been doing this, sleeping together whenever their paths cross, for nearly three years now. And it always feels just as exciting and illicit as the first time in Stella’s hotel in Belfast. 

It could just be the rain.

Stella’s voice snaps Reed out of her reverie. “I hope you didn’t get too wet today.” 

Reed has to stop herself from groaning at Stella’s terrible pun. “I do carry an umbrella.” 

“Mine broke this morning,” Stella says, and then she sighs dramatically. “I got caught in the rain and I was wet all day.”  

The end of the sentence comes out almost as a whine. It’s easy to picture Stella sprawled on her bed, perhaps wearing her silk robe and nothing else, rolling around on her duvet and skimming her fingertips over the tops of her thighs. It’s far more likely that Stella is fully clothed and doing something completely unremarkable like heating up takeaway or uncorking a bottle of wine. 

But Stella knows what she’s doing. She knows the image she’s summoned in Reed’s mind. And she knows how Reed will turn it over and over in head until her breath starts to quicken and she can feel that telltale pulsing between her legs. 

“Ten minutes,” Reed says. She swallows thickly. “I’ll be ten minutes.”

Stella chuckles. “Do hurry up.” 

Stella hangs up, and just then the rain seems to let up a little. They’ll be at Stella’s flat soon. 


	2. Chrissie/Stevie: On the edge of consciousness

Chrissie is the only person in her household who doesn’t make a habit of falling asleep in front of the television.

Tom and Joe doze off while watching Graham Norton. Grace sneaks downstairs when she can’t sleep and put on old episodes of Monty Don’s Gardener’s world: she'd thought she could hide it from her mother, but Chrissie comes home at three or four in the morning often enough to know the truth. Peter doesn't even need to have anything on the telly to nap on the sofa. And Nina falls asleep during movie night so often that it's become a running joke.

And on Christmas Day, every year for nearly a decade, Stevie'd come by with tea and desserts and then promptly fall asleep in front of the Doctor Who Christmas special. 

“Stevie,” Nina’d cry, “you missed the best part!” 

“Did I?” Stevie’d say. “Well, you have to tell me everything, then.” And then Nina would go into some Doctor Who jargon that Chrissie could barely understand, and Stevie’d nod along and ask questions that made Nina’s eyes light up. 

Stevie was good with Nina. And it wasn’t easy, being good with Nina. 

There was something strange about that last year, Stevie’s last Christmas. Chrissie can’t quite identify it now, even in retrospect. 

Stevie had fallen asleep in front of the television, and all of them had let her be. Tom was out for drinks with a colleague (likely a lie, Chrissie realizes now), Joe and Grace were both out with friends, Peter was on the computer, and Nina had gone to bed. It was up to Chrissie to wake Stevie up and send her home. 

Chrissie rubbed Stevie’s arm gently. “Stevie? It’s getting late.” 

Stevie groaned. “God, I fell asleep again, didn’t I? Is Nina still here? That was a good Christmas Special. I know she’s not keen on the twelfth doctor, but I think…”

“She went to bed. It’s quarter past eleven.” 

Stevie sat up and took a deep breath in. “I should…” she started, and then she glanced around the room. Her eyes fell on Chrissie’s hand, now resting in the crook of Stevie’s elbow. Chrissie quickly moved it away.

“Go,” Stevie whispered. “I should go.” 

And she did just that, called a cab and left. And now, alone in her house just a week before Christmas, Chrissie lies awake on that same sofa and listens to the white noise from the television. Wonders why on Earth she couldn’t just ask Stevie to stay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please watch River. It's on Netflix. Just... watch it?


	3. Stella/Reed: An absent look or touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a wrote a giant AU, but this ficlet goes from the end of the actual series two :D

Reed gets a call from Eastwood the day after the incident in the woods. 

“Look, I know this isn’t procedural, but can you take a look through the notes from Rose Stagg’s forensic examination? There are a few discrepancies and DSI Gibson and I would like a more senior eye.” 

Reed sighs. “I’m Rose’s friend. I don’t think I’m the objective eye you’re looking for.” 

“You did examine a body that you suspected was Rose Stagg’s,” Eastwood reminds her. 

Reed closes her eyes and starts massaging her forehead. Yes, she answered that call. She answered that call because she knew Stella would be at the crime scene, and she was hoping just to pull her aside and say… what, exactly? _Listen, last night was… I know I walked away but I… I was so surprised and I just couldn’t… but I was thinking…_

And then Stella would know exactly what to say to salvage the situation. Or even look at her in a way that told Reed that she understood. 

But that’s not what happened at all. 

“I’m not promising anything,” Reed says. “But go ahead and email me the file.” 

He does email it, but she doesn’t open it. If there’s something Stella needs, or something Stella _wants,_ then Stella will have to be the one to ask for it.


	4. Stella/Jane: A stolen kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers: discussion of human trafficking, child sex abuse, rape

"We don’t get enough credit for what we do,” Jane says. 

It’s nearly two in the morning, and Stella and Jane are sitting in front of the evidence board in bullpen. Twelve girls brought in from Pakistan who ended up in English brothels. Ages thirteen to nineteen. And Jane just found the man who connected these women to a large trafficking ring the Met supposedly dismantled five years ago. 

His name is Joe, and he lives in Brixton with his wife and three children. 

“They trying to force you into retirement?” Stella asks. She takes a generous swig of the scotch that Jane has poured for her.

“Slowly but surely. But if they’re going to throw me to the dogs, they should know that there’s fight in me yet,” Jane rasps. She sounds like she hasn’t slept in days. 

“I’ll drink to that,” Stella says, and clinks her coffee cup full of scotch with the bottle that Jane’s drinking from. She sets it back on a nearby desk, and her fingers collide with Jane’s. 

Stella recognizes the heat that runs through her, and it’s got nothing to do with the alcohol. She’s surprised at herself; she was so involved in the case that she hadn’t even registered the attraction. 

But she has now. 

Stella sighs. “I should try to get some sleep before tomorrow. Thank you for the scotch.” 

Jane hums distractedly. “Morning prayer’s at 8am.”

“I know,” Stella whispers. And then she leans over and kisses Jane’s cheek. “I’ll see you then.” 

There’s no reaction from Jane: no reprimand, no acquiescence to a latent curiosity. Jane just takes another sip of scotch and keeps staring at the evidence board. So Stella walks away.

But when she turns back to take a last look at the bullpen, she swears she sees Jane touch her cheek. 


	5. Stella/Jane: An absent look or touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's on the slightly higher end of 'T.'

Jane is the first person Stella calls when she’s promoted to DSI.

“Well, they’ll say a lot of things, Gibson,” Jane starts, “but they can’t say you didn’t work your arse off for it.” 

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Stella mutters. Every time she’s promoted, there’s talk that she fucked someone for the job. Stella knows better than to pay it any mind, but god, after fifteen years it’s just _tiresome._  

“Do you want my advice?” Jane asks. 

Stella grins and tucks her mobile closer to her cheek. “You know the answer to that.” 

“Tell them that yes, you absolutely fucked the boss. You fucked me, repeatedly, or more accurately I fucked you. And then tell them that I have the best tits the Metropolitan Police has ever seen.” 

Stella throws back her head and laughs. “I’m distributing that as a memo. That will be my first act as a Detective Superintendent.” 

There’s a long contented silence. Stella can hear Jane reach for a cigarette. She relaxes to the sound of Jane lighting up. 

“Where are you, Jane?” 

An exhale on the other line. “I’m taking a week in Italy if you’ll believe it. I’m in Naples. Practically at the foot of Vesuvius. It’s quite beautiful, actually. You should go, if you haven’t been.” 

That’s Jane’s way of telling her that she wishes Stella were here with her. Stella closes her eyes. “Tell me what you’d do if I were there.” 

Stella holds her breath and waits for Jane to tell her exactly where to touch. 


	6. Stella/Reed: Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, takes place after the real series two. Triggers: self-harm, assault.

Stella goes through the forensic report on Rose Stagg several more times than she needs to.

No semen anywhere on her body. Bruises and cuts consistent with being tied up and forcibly transported in the trunk of a car, hypoxia and dehydration consistent with being trapped in the trunk of that car for an extended period. 

The ‘I love–” on her arm most likely self-inflicted. 

_I love, and I am loved, and nothing you can do can take that away._  

Stella rubs the back of her neck and glances at her phone. Eastwood, Burns, Alice from Forensics, Martina from the Press Office, her aunt. Ferrington. Ferrington’s on duty patrolling Tom Anderson’s hospital room, so any message from her is actually a message from Tom.

Stella had asked Ferrington to stop by on her own time, independent of DS Anderson’s instructions. It hasn’t happened yet.

There are no more messages from Reed, not since the one right after the incident asking if Stella was okay. _Fine,_ Stella had typed back, and that had been the end of it. 

Reed had probably heard about her and DS Anderson. 

It isn’t Reed’s place to be jealous, and it’s certainly not her place to judge. Stella was feeling vulnerable and in need of companionship, and how she chose to satisfy that need is no one’s business but her's and her partner’s.

But it would be foolish of her to consider the need satisfied. If anything, having Tom in her bed left her feeling more exposed. She runs her finger over Reed’s last text message, _are you okay?,_ and imagines that Reed is here, with her, asking. That the words are soft and contained, and there’s no chance of anyone overhearing Stella’s answer.

Stella puts her phone back down on her desk and wipes the few tears dotting her cheeks away. There is so much work still to do. 


	7. Stevie & River: While driving or in/around a car

“Right, so, I’m starting to think we’re lost,” Stevie said. 

They’d been driving around Bromley for nearly half an hour. Chrissie had dragged them out to the suburbs interview a suspect’s wife, but the wife didn’t give them anything they could use. And they couldn’t justify bringing her to the station, so the entire mission was for naught.

And now they might be lost.

“We’re not lost,” River grumbled. “I’m following what she says!” He gestured dismissively at the GPS system.

“In point one kilometer, merge left on to High Street,” the GPS recited. 

“Except we were just on High Street!” Stevie yelled at the GPS. “And then we’ll reach the closed road and it will take us on the diversion, except the diversion is just a giant circle which will lead us right back to…” 

“Recalculating…” said the GPS. 

Stevie shook her head and took out her mobile phone. “That’s it. I’m calling Chrissie. Let her know where we are, or where we think we are.” 

“How can Chrissie help us?” River argued. “What does Chrissie know that the most sophisticated and up-to-date geo-positioning system doesn’t already know?” 

Stevie acknowledged River’s sarcasm with a scoff and a slight smile. “Heya, it’s Stevie,” she said into the phone. She paused and listened to Chrissie talk. “So we’re not at the station yet. That’s what I was calling about… Yeah, River’s with me. There’s a road closing in Bromley so we’re just…” 

Stevie’s face fell as she processed something Chrissie was saying on the other line. She started massaging her temple. “No, that hadn’t occurred us… Yes, I believe we _are_ police officers… Right, so we’ll get back to the closed road and see you at the station? Yes, yes, of course, right, thanks guv.” 

River chuckled. “Chrissie hates it when you call her guv.” 

“That’s why I did it,” Stevie sing-songed. She then pitched her voice to a near-perfect impression of Chrissie: “Did it even _occur_ to you to just ask the traffic patrol to let you through the closed road? Are you police officers or not? What do I even hire you to _do_?” 

“Oh, Chrissie,” River sighed. 

“Maybe she has a point,” Stevie mused. “I mean, me and you, what do we even do all day?” 

“We do… what we do,” River answered. He turned to Stevie, and she smiled. 


	8. Chrissie, Stevie: An absent look or touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers: stalking, sexual assault, rape

Chrissie watches the interview with Bridie on a loop.

She sits at her kitchen table and pours herself a glass of wine, and then another, and then the bottle’s empty. She listens to Bridie say… _what she says_ about her own daughter, and she has to sit on her hands to stop herself from hitting the table or her laptop. 

What Chrissie remembers is a late night at the station, drinks to celebrate the closing of a case. Everyone was jovial but no one was plastered quite yet, and Chrissie was taking slow, deliberate sips of her champagne. 

Stevie approached Chrissie with a small piece of cake on a napkin. “We’re out of forks, but you can use your hands.” 

“Thanks.” Chrissie tried to smile, but she could tell from Stevie’s expression that it wasn’t quite working. Her champagne glass was trembling in her hand. 

“Hey, sit down with me.” Stevie led them to her desk at the other side of the room and motioned for Chrissie to sit in her chair. Stevie grabbed River’s desk chair and pulled it over. “You okay?” 

“Fine, fine,” Chrissie said, but she could feel the tears starting to gather. “Grace… got her first period last week.” 

“Ooooh, that’s no fun. Hope you have lots of ice cream,” Stevie quipped. She picked up a pen and started tapping it in her palm, suddenly not quite able to keep still. 

A few moments passed, and the only sound was the tap-tap-tap of the pen against Stevie’s hand. 

“Heck of a thing to deal with during this case,” Stevie said, finally. 

Chrissie just nodded. She had gotten the call from the school nurse just two hours after they’d finished interviewing a man who cyberstalked three girls under the age of fifteen and then lured them to his home. Assaulted them. 

 _Grace wants to talk to you_ , the nurse had said. 

“I told her…” Chrissie started, and then she sighed. “I told her that I’d pick up whatever she wanted to eat and then we could watch whatever movie or tv show she wanted, and I’m usually the _mean_ parent, but God, I wanted to spoil her. And I did. She ate a whole box of biscuits and I just watched!” 

Chrissie looked over at Stevie and saw she was smiling, but she wouldn’t meet Chrissie’s eyes. “Chocolate ice cream,” she muttered. “For me, it was chocolate ice cream. The whole container.” 

“How many points in that?” Chrissie asked, by way of a joke.

But Stevie didn’t respond, didn’t so much as look at her. She just wandered back into the party. 

Chrissie hadn’t thought much of it at the time, it was just _Stevie,_ but now… 

She closes her laptop, shoves it aside, and lays her head down on the table. Desperately tries to find something else to remember. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now! Keep an eye on this just in case a find another good prompt meme :D


End file.
